


Cold Enough to Snow

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Finding Someone Years Later, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, M/M, Older Characters, Post-Canon, Reunions, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-18
Updated: 2001-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few years in the future from the show's universe, Chris and Vin are reunited in a different place and time, coming to terms with regrets and second chances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Enough to Snow

> Who could see heaven,  
> and not want to stay?

The town was busy today, alive with the bustle of preparations. Through the streets, colors ran like water as decorations were draped along the building fronts. Mouthwatering aromas filled the air, floating from a dozen windows where women cooked the food for the night's celebration. It was the last fandango the town would have before winter set in, and they would do it up right, as always.

Chris Larabee dismounted his horse and tied it to the hitching rail in front of the town's small jail. He would spend most of his day outside talking to the townspeople setting up for the fiesta, making sure everything went smoothly. That was his job as sheriff: not to wait until trouble arrived and then arrest someone, but to prevent it from starting.

He made his way through town, taking time to say hello to everyone he met. People knew him mostly as a silent man here, even though he was more talkative now and more even-tempered than he had been so long ago in Four Corners. Partly that was from taking on the true role of a peace officer with its social obligations, of wearing a legitimate badge instead of being one small part of a vigilance committee, but he also thought it stemmed from reaching a kind of comfort with this place in his life.

He'd achieved something resembling the life he'd wanted before with Sarah and Adam, even if it was a more solitary one than he'd imagined then, or wanted. He had a small horse ranch, a job that filled the rest of his time and didn't require too much of him, a place that felt like home. If sometimes he turned his mind back to the days he'd spent in Four Corners, it was only occasionally regretfully. This was a quiet place, one most people passed through on their way to Taos or the mine, a perfect place for a quiet man.

By noon the musicians had set up in the plaza and Chris had walked the length of the town. He stopped to pick up some lunch from Elena, who ran the busiest of the cantinas along with her husband, Miguel. Elena always had news and gossip to tell him, whether or not he wished to hear it, and she wanted to fatten him up, but those were small prices to pay for her outstanding food. She would never call him Chris no matter how often he asked, only Señor Larabee, and he was always amused that she dragged out the last syllable of his name in one long beeee.

"Did you see? A stranger today!" she said excitedly. It was getting to the time of year when they rarely saw someone willing to risk the unpredictable mountain winter weather, but it wasn't *that* unusual, especially not with a fiesta today, so he wondered why Elena was fit near to bust.

"No, I didn't. Was he at the jail? I must have missed him." He looked out the front door to the jail, but saw no horse there.

"No!" she said. "He looking for *you*."

"The sheriff?" he asked.

She crinkled her brow and looked at him as if he were a slow child. "You," she said with exasperation.

"Me?" Chris asked, mildly intrigued. His past rarely caught up with him here in New Mexico, but it was always something he had to be ready for. He'd killed enough people, and arrested more, that he would always have to be careful about revenge-minded men -- and women.

"Si. He come here, buy a drink, ask about you."

"What did he look like?"

"Oh, very handsome. Tall like you, but even skinnier." She snorted in a way that said "as if that's possible." One of the things he liked most about Elena was her openness, there was no mask of politeness about her or the careful modesty that was the custom for women these days. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, curvy and ample, with flashing black eyes, and there were times he almost envied Miguel for having her. "Pretty blue eyes, long hair, darker than yours, though," she added as an afterthought. "He went to the livery."

His first notion was Vin Tanner, but he knew that couldn't be. It had been more than six years since they'd split up, he and the rest of the boys, and gone their separate ways. Vin had left first without saying good-bye, the way Chris had always expected he would when the time came. But he couldn't imagine that Vin would come looking for him, not after what had happened -- and besides, Vin wasn't skinny.

"Can I come back for this later?" he asked, pushing the meal she'd made for him across the counter. He bolted out the door before she could answer.

Chris walked to the livery, his heart pounding -- not from fear, but maybe from hope. Since leaving Arizona he'd rarely feared that the wide swath he'd cut through the territory as a gunslinger would catch up to him; his life here had been largely peaceful. But if he could be lucky enough to have Vin come looking for him...

Just as he walked in through the wide stable doors he saw him. Vin looked straight at Chris, his face unreadable. Elena was right, he was thin, too thin, but the sight was gut-twisting, happiness and surprise and fear thrown together in a churning wave inside his stomach. They saw each other at the same instant, and Chris knew the look on his own face as surely as if a mirror were held up in front of him: skin flushed red, eyes alight and filled with his bewilderment and joy, mouth curved in a smile.

As Vin cast a shy look to the floor, Chris took in the sight of him -- a long, brown duster instead of the buffalo hide coat, a mustache of the kind most men wore these days, his hair still long, the old cavalry hat hanging down his back, pale, dusty trousers, and a faded red shirt.

And most of all the stance. Eyes downcast, index finger looped around the reins, leaning with one hip out as he stood, left leg thrust forward just a touch. Some voice inside Chris, a voice he'd never heard before, said, *remember this, remember it always.* He took it in like he was having a picture made. There were no words in his learning to tell Vin how he felt at this moment. And even if there were, Vin would probably just laugh at him for being so soppy.

Was there a word for this, anyway? This feeling of being confronted with a second chance, the knowing that you were on the edge of changing something long since petrified? Of rewriting the story of your life?

Then Vin looked back up at him and smiled, his eyes a dark and earthy blue, like the stones in a river. And then speech found him again, and Chris said, "Howdy, stranger."

Vin laughed low in his throat, that familiar raspy voice again after all these years. "Hey, cowboy."

"You callin' me a cowboy?"

"Guess I should call you sheriff." Vin stepped forward and pushed aside Chris's black coat, tapping his finger against the tin star. "Now who'd ever have expected that?"

"It's good to see you." It all came back to him now, flowing past the years in between like a flash flood through a desert arroyo. He hadn't realized how much he missed Vin until just this moment, how dry and dusty his heart had become.

"Likewise." Vin turned away then, and Chris wondered if it was to hide his eyes. He took the tack off the horse, but stopped for a moment, coughing severely, and Chris felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.

"Are you staying in town?" Chris asked, mostly just to take the attention away from the coughing. He knew how much Vin would disdain sympathy.

"Haven't got that far yet." He grabbed up his warbag and pulled the familiar Winchester rifle out of the saddle scabbard, put them over his shoulder, and walked up next to Chris. This much hadn't changed, Chris realized -- as Vin turned to him, his eyes were alight, his whole face seemed to glow and his smile was so serene. Chris had always valued that calm in Vin. "Seems like you're getting set for a party here."

Chris noticed that a box was tied up carefully in an oilcloth, the box that had held the assassin's rifle from Four Corners, and Vin now wore a Colt Peacemaker on his hip exactly like his own. He wondered what Vin was up to these days, but before he could bring it up, Vin walked outside. Chris followed him.

"Yeah, it's a regular thing, big fandango into the night. Dancing, music, singing. Good food. Best of all is the liquor. I got a treat for you," he said, raising his eyebrows at Vin, who smiled in return.

"Forgot how cold it could get in these parts," Vin said. "Cold enough to snow, feels like."

Chris nodded. He wasn't sure if Vin was saying something else with those words -- it had always been like him to make odd comments that seemed to be about one thing, but were really about another. But he decided it was just a comment on the weather, because he was so happy to see Vin again he wouldn't have noticed a blizzard if it hit. They walked out into the street past some young Mexican girls in brightly colored skirts.

"So you're horse trading again?" Vin asked casually.

"Well, the sheriffing part don't take much time in a place this quiet. And the horsing part ain't big enough, either, not right now. I got a young Mexican boy, Francisco, comes in every day to earn money for his family, but dividing my time, I can't make it much bigger."

Vin scanned the street. "Seems like a nice little town," he said, leaving off the obvious part that for a town so near a mine, it seemed fairly calm and quiet.

Chris nodded at him, then steered them in the direction of the jail and they went in. Chris pulled the cork out of a grimy bottle and poured two glasses of something, handing one to Vin. After he downed it, Vin let out a huge gasp. "Holy Jesus!" he said breathlessly.

"Taos lightnin'," Chris said laughingly. "Nothing like it."

Vin threw his bags down and set the rifle on the desk, then sat in the one chair as if he belonged there. At that moment Chris wanted nothing more than for Vin to truly belong there, to say he was staying.

"That's for sure." Vin looked around the room. "So this is it."

"Yup," Chris answered, sitting on the desk. "Spend part of the day here, the rest at my place. Work the horses. Pretty easy life."

"I like it," Vin said, smiling warmly at him. "Suits you." He reached over and tapped the silvery badge again. "Whoever woulda thought."

Shaking his head, Chris said, "Yeah, I know. Reckon I got a taste for it back in Four Corners."

For a while Vin scrutinized him, then he looked out the window. "How'd you end up here?'

"Ah, that's a long story."

Vin merely gazed at him. "Got time."

That look. Chris thought he knew what it meant, but he couldn't really say for certain. He wasn't sure which he was more afraid of -- Vin bringing it up first, or asking about it himself. So he avoided it altogether.

"Was down in Mexico after... I left Four Corners. Hired out to some fellows moving payroll money, starting a new silver mine. One of them hired me to ride him back here, he was selling out his stake. I decided to stay, and then they asked if I'd be interested in keeping the peace." He drew out the word for effect. It did the job; Vin chuckled.

"Guess they figured if they could get you to keep the peace, you couldn't get up to no trouble, huh? No busting up hitching posts?"

"Nah, I get to arrest the ones who do that. You hungry?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

"I got a lunch already waiting, and someone who'll be wanting to meet you."

"That pretty señorita I was asking about you?"

Chris nodded. "That's the one. Only she ain't a señorita, she's got a señor, so you best keep your hands off her."

As they walked out of the jail office, Vin looked around again. "Seems like folks get along all right."

"Suppose that's one of the things attracted me to this place. The Mexicans and the whites get on most times, and we don't have much Indian trouble these days. Pretty quiet, mostly people on their way to or from Taos. Close enough to the mine, but far enough away it ain't crawlin' with trouble." He looked quizzically at Vin. "You rode all the way here? We got a narrow gauge comes up near this way now, through the mountains."

Vin patted his pockets and grinned. Chris laughed in response, and slapped Vin on the back.

When he got back to Elena she was waiting for him, hands on hips. "I got a fiesta to cook for, yes? You keep me waiting."

"Elena, please meet my friend Vin Tanner. Can you rustle up something for him, too?"

She seemed to melt at Vin's smile, and Chris wasn't sure if it was because of his handsomeness or because she saw a prime opportunity for fattening up another man, especially as she'd had so little luck with Chris.

She asked Vin where he was from, and Vin was flummoxed for an answer. "Why, all around, ma'am," he finally said as they sat at a table.

This answer did not seem to suit her, but she gave him his food, with a suspicious look thrown in for good measure. "How you know him?" she asked, nodding in Chris's direction, as if he wasn't even in the room.

"He's an old friend. I knew him a long time ago. Back before he was respectable."

She laughed out loud, tossing her hair back gleefully. After she stopped laughing, she narrowed her eyes at Chris and said, "He is still not respectable." This was typical of the way she talked to him all the time. He liked her more because she spoke to him that way, it reminded him of the people he'd been closest to in life and how they treated him -- especially Buck and Vin at the best of times.

"Are you going to tell me how you found me?" There was more to the question, but he thought he should leave it for now. He wasn't sure how far Vin was willing to go beyond just the fact of his coming here, which was in itself a sacrifice.

"Been doing this and that. Scouting mostly. Next thing I know I'm in the area and thought I should look in on you and say hello. I thought... well, I thought you'd be in town still, you and Mary. But when I got there she said you'd moved on, only she had all them letters you wrote to Billy. Told me where to find you."

Vin's voice betrayed nothing, but he had a cold eye as he looked toward the door.

"You thought I'd be settled with Mary."

He looked back at Chris. "Things was headed that way when I left. Didn't have no reason to think otherwise." His unsparing gaze didn't waver.

Chris wadded up the napkin and put it on the table, sliding his chair back and rising. It was already getting on dusk outside and the sounds of the party were growing. Vin sat still, as if waiting for something, and Chris could suddenly see that bitterness in him again from so many years ago, and it all came back to him, as riotous and noisy in his head as the world outside on the plaza. Overwhelmed, he stepped outside into the cold air.

 

****

 

The seven of them had tried to keep a rein on a conflict between the newly formed Cattlemen's Association and the grangers, but despite their best efforts had been caught in the middle of what looked to be a full-on war. Over the past few months, both sides had taken each other to court over land-use rights, had accused various townsmen of financial misdeeds, had threatened each other and damaged resources, and worst of all, killed as if it were a game.

Everyone in the county was tense, and things were bad enough that both sides had long since lost their focus and taken to shooting anyone they carried the slightest grievance against. When an unsuspecting private in the Army, heading to Yuma with a few of his fellow soldiers, had been killed in a random shooting, the situation had blown up completely.

But before any Army could step in, the seven got word of a planned assault by the cattlemen on Alfred Hamilton, the main homesteader behind the grangers. They had ridden out to bring Hamilton to town for protection, only they hadn't known that the cattlemen had hired enough guns for a full-on assault. As they'd ridden into it, unprepared, Buck had acted quickly and bolted for help. But they had no way of knowing whether he'd made it out alive, and that had been days ago, anyway.

Now it was a disaster. The fancy house they'd taken refuge in was riddled with bullet holes, furniture piled against walls and windows and doors. The finery of the woodwork -- spindle railings, smooth wainscoting, delicate tables and chairs and filigreed arches -- was splintered all around them. Glass from the windows littered the floor, drapes were pulled down and used as padding or bandages, and the house stank of piss and cordite and sweat. Spent cartridges littered the floor.

JD and Nathan were either still trapped in the barn or the bunk house, or possibly even separated, they didn't know which, but there was still gunfire from that direction occasionally, and while there was no way to know for sure if they were all right, it was of some small reassurance. In the living room Josiah and Ezra held them off to the west with Hamilton and his two sons; Chris and Vin were in the back rooms where the hill to the east let the cattlemen shoot down at them like they were target practice.

After days of that, the air was acrid and bitter in their mouths. Their arms and hands ached from the constant firing, the recoils, and the ducking for cover, over and over and over. They'd mostly run out of food and water, and their ammunition was growing lower by the hour. But there was no surrender here -- they would be killed, so there was no choice but to hold out. Chris would prefer a bullet to a lynching, anyway.

He looked over at Vin, who was crouched down next to him under the room's only window, leaning back against a feather mattress that had been pushed up against the wall, although it had long since disgorged most of its feathers. Vin was looking at Chris's gun hand, which he now realized was cramped up like a claw.

"Damn," he said.

"Damn right," Vin replied, smiling. "Why, my arm feels like it's been kicked by a mule at least five times." He shook his arm out for effect.

Chris tried fumblingly to reload in the lull they now had, but he had trouble getting the bullets in the filthy chambers.

"Here," Vin said, and reached down. He took Chris's hand and rubbed out the kinks, slowly and tenderly. Chris could feel a heat in his hand, fanning up along his arm. The only sound he could hear was the noise of blood pounding in his head.

When Vin was done he kept Chris's hand between his, and then shifted closer. Chris wasn't certain how to react, he was trapped in that strange land between yes and no. He knew by instinct what Vin was going to do, what he wanted; maybe he'd known all along. There were places they'd hidden feelings in, places that moments like this uncovered.

Vin said quietly, "We ain't gonna make it. They probably got Buck a long time ago, and we're nearly out of rounds."

Nodding, Chris said, "I expect so."

"I wouldn't care, except..." and Vin leaned over and kissed Chris, his lips brushing like a whisper over Chris's, barely touching. Chris felt himself yearn upwards to Vin's mouth, taking him closer. Then Chris knew which way to go and he turned his face away, taking up his gun again and reloading. When the next shots eventually came he looked at Vin, who was gazing calmly at him, his face so tender. Vin didn't duck the bullets or move away from the direction of the shots. Chris knew he should feel ashamed, but he wasn't certain what for -- that he had hurt Vin, or that Vin thought they could do such a thing.

More gunfire, a few more lulls, and they crept toward the other room. Night gave way to dawn, more firing at them, and then suddenly out of nowhere, a sound more welcome than he could have expected -- a bugle, a cavalry bugle. "I'll be goddamned," Chris said.

Vin met his eyes, his face a haunting mixture of sadness and relief, and nodded. "Just in time," he said a little regretfully, and Chris looked away from him, knowing what he meant and hating himself for how he felt.

In the weeks that followed, Vin kept his distance, always cordial but more reserved than he'd ever been, considering he was the quietest and most reserved person Chris had ever met. And in his turn, Chris began courting Mary Travis with a furious single-mindedness, spending nearly every free moment with her that he could, or with Billy when she was working on her newspaper. He made a point that he was courting her, to the amusement of Buck and most of the others.

Quietly Vin sat by and seemed to pay less and less attention, until one day Chris came into town in the morning and Buck remarked to him, with infinite sadness, that Vin was gone.

 

****

 

As Chris stood on the boardwalk, thinking back to that, Vin came up behind him and patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Looks like it's time for a party."

"Fies-taaa," Chris said, drawing out the word for effect.

"I think if I don't dance with Elena she might never forgive me," Vin said, smiling.

"Be careful. She might be more woman than you can handle."

They watched the people moving around, the dancers turning into brilliant whirling wheels as they spun around. The music carried across the small town, and the lanterns and candles that ringed the plaza cast a soft glow over everything. All around them people milled, as if everyone for miles was here: Mexican women with their colorful rebozos and the men with their serapes and ponchos; Anglo men and women in their grey, drab coats, all with faces alight from the cold night air and the drink.

"Every time we have any kind of celebration, there's this one fellow causes me trouble. Like as not I'll haul Pete in. My place is just outside town, about a quarter hour's ride, but I'll be staying for the night because of him. We could get you a room, but you're welcome to bunk down here. He usually ends up sleeping the night away, once I get him calmed down."

Vin nodded.

They strolled over towards the center of the activity and Chris leaned up against a post. Vin did the same, just as he'd always done, hip low and one leg crossed over in front of the other.

As they watched the people, Vin said quietly, "Didn't come all this way to make you unhappy. If you want, I can leave in the morning."

He felt his stomach clench. "No, no." After a time he turned and looked at Vin, whose face was mostly shadowed by the low light. "Wasn't unhappy. Just thinking about all the lost time."

Vin straightened quickly, blinking and looking at him with surprise.

Chris decided to get brave, and said, "I almost married her. I was so hell-bent on putting you wrong, I nearly did it. But what Mary wants is the kind of man I ain't -- a good man, a man with an honest job. A townsman, not a gunslinger. And I finally wised up to that. It was hard because of Billy. But not long after I left she found herself a good man and she's happy, like she deserves to be."

Instead of responding, Vin just stared at him, his mouth set in a hard line. Chris didn't know if he was only going to be more unhappy because of that news.

"It was too late to talk to you. You were long gone by then."

Vin nodded, then leaned back against the post. But Chris could see his eyes more clearly and saw something that shocked him -- Vin's eyes glimmered with unspilled tears. As if knowing Chris was seeing this, Vin closed his eyes for a time before he finally smiled regretfully and looked at Chris.

"I thought about going back to Tascosa. Figured I'd either come out of it all right, or get hung, and either way I didn't much care no more."

"Damn glad you didn't."

"When I found out you was here, I figured I'd best ride out before the snow came. Didn't know what to expect. I'm mighty pleased you don't mind my being here."

It had taken Chris many years to realize that Vin had left a cold trail because he couldn't bear to be followed, to have Chris apologize or make excuses or explain. They were not men who did that, and it would only have added more humiliation to the whole sad mess.

He sighed loudly and said, "I gotta get out and walk around here. Don't look right for the peace officer to be standin' around in case trouble breaks out." He stepped down off the boardwalk and gave a follow-me smile to Vin, who did, as always. He didn't even really need to look beside or behind him, he knew Vin was there, right where he should be.

They ate a bit, and Vin danced with Elena, but midway through he was stopped by a coughing fit. Elena looked desperately at Chris for a moment, her fear and sadness communicating to him in a glance across the plaza, but then she got Vin going again, her cheerfulness bringing him back. Chris could see Vin's surprise, his pleasure at the way Elena treated him; such kindnesses meant a great deal to Vin, more than to most people.

When they were done, Elena gave him back to Chris. "She's a spirited filly, ain't she?" Vin said, looking admiringly after her as she moved on to her next conquest.

"Oh, she likes you, Vin," Chris said mockingly.

"Good thing she's got that man, then. I think you're right -- she'd be too much woman for me." He didn't say anything about the coughing, so Chris let it be, but he worried over it just the same. "Amazed anyone ever got a saddle on her before."

Chris could only laugh at that. After all this time, after all that had gone between them, it was as if nothing had changed. When he'd first met Vin, so long ago in that dusty Arizona town, he'd been unbalanced, off kilter, still reeling and lurching after the death of his family. Vin had evened him out, balanced him, and now even though they were a world away from that place, he felt it all over again, every bit as strong.

They made their way through the crowds until they stopped for more whiskey. Someone lighted the fireworks. Chris could never help being a little melancholy over fireworks, because Adam had loved them so during the Fourth of July celebrations. Chris couldn't forget that association when he saw them, but for the first time since Adam's death, he didn't feel overcome by sadness.

He looked at Vin. "God, I missed you," he said before he could stop himself. Vin's eyes stayed straight ahead but he leaned towards Chris and said something, only Chris couldn't hear it; the noise of the fireworks, the cascading light and sound exploding from the Catharine wheel stole away the words. Then Vin looked back at him, the lights reflected in his eyes, the colors of the night whirling around him, and Chris knew there were no words anyway, it was all there between them like the music and the sparks and the cold night air.

After a time he took his eyes away from Vin's, looking the crowd over. He could feel his skin prickling. What was Vin thinking? Chris wondered. It had been Vin who was the daring one all this time. Despite his relative youth to Chris, he'd always been the calm one, the thoughtful one, the one who acted on things when Chris would hang back or show reluctance or fiery temper. It was Vin who had kissed him, Vin who had left town rather than prolong the misery, Vin who had come after him all the way up here to the mountains of New Mexico.

Off in the distance he saw a minor disturbance and Chris was snapped back to reality. He tapped Vin on the shoulder and nodded in the direction, and Vin said, "That your troublemaker?"

"Yup, always the same thing. Drinks too much, starts waving that damn gun around, and picks out some lady or 'nother to trouble. I've told him a hundred times not to bring that gun into town when there's dancing and drinking, but he does it every time. It's his pa's old gun, a big Navy Colt, thinks it makes him more of a man. He's just a spotty kid."

Vin followed him, nodding. Pete was trying to drag a tiny blonde woman into the plaza to dance, much to the consternation of her man. Chris grabbed the gun Pete waved about randomly and tore it out of Pete's hand before Pete had even seen him coming.

"Dammit, Pete, don't you ever learn?" He started to twist Pete's free arm around his back, but just then the woman hurled herself backwards out of Pete's grasp, and Chris lost hold of his arm. Pete, who was a few inches shorter than Chris's lanky six feet, had about eighty pounds on Chris and used his size to shove past him, bellowing, "Aw, sheriff," as he ran.

Before Chris could move, Vin stuck his leg out and tripped Pete, and as Pete lurched forward Vin grabbed him by the hair, bounced Pete's head off a post, and the two of them watched Pete stumble, wobble, and then drop softly to the ground. Vin did it all in one fluid motion, with hardly the effort required to light a lucifer match. Vin hadn't really changed, Chris thought again, things were just like before.

At least now the job of carrying Pete to the jail would be easier with Vin. They hauled him off and then went back to the festivities for a few more hours, before everyone began trickling away in the early hours of the morning. They eventually made their way back to the jail. Chris threw him a blanket he took from the second cell and they settled in on the floor of the office. "Much obliged," was all Vin said as he shoved his coat under his head.

"No," Chris said in the darkness. "You're not obliged at all." Behind them he could hear Pete snoring horribly, but he barely cared. "I could never do enough."

They were quiet for some time, Chris wondering just how far over the line he'd stepped, when he felt a hand on his arm and in the inky blackness saw the faint outline of Vin's face, very close. "You welcomed me as a friend. It's more than I ever expected."

He didn't move, hoping not to disturb Vin away from him, but nevertheless Vin moved back and he could no longer see his profile. Chris listened as he settled himself in and waited to see if he could fall asleep, but couldn't. There were so many things he wanted to say to Vin -- most of which he believed Vin understood already, but he wanted to be clear, with no doubts left to muddy the water between them.

"It was never my meaning to hurt you," Chris said eventually, because he felt somehow safer blanketed by the darkness. "I was... scared, I guess. And I did care for Mary, but once you were gone, I realized what I was doing."

Vin didn't speak, but Chris could hear him breathing steadily, could hear him listening. That was another thing about Vin that had not changed, how carefully he listened to people, how much he heard between their words.

"I thought about coming after you for a spell, but you left a cold trail. In the end, I reckon I proved myself as bad as I always thought -- I hurt you, and I hurt Mary. She thought I was a good man, but I proved to her just how wrong she was."

"You're still wrong," Vin said quietly. "Never met no man better'n you."

Chris knew he had wielded his power poorly over Vin back then. And yet Vin was telling him now that he thought no less of Chris. His own image of himself was so at odds with what Vin seemed to think of him, he couldn't make it ordered in his mind.

"You always did believe in me too much," Chris said.

He thought maybe Vin had fallen asleep in the lingering silence, until he heard him say, "You can't make yourself feel something you don't already feel. That ain't how it works."

Chris left it there between them, the sharp scorch of regret, and said nothing more. Eventually he fell asleep, knowing Vin had forgiven him and understood, even if he had done neither for himself.

 

 

In the morning they released Pete, and Chris offered to take Vin out to his place after they had breakfast and helped a bit with the cleanup. It was a short ride and Chris watched Vin take in the area around them. The air was so crisp and cold it was almost brittle, he could feel it freeze his lungs with each breath. But Vin seemed fine, and that calmed Chris's fears for the time being.

When they rode up, Vin saw the corral and the horse barn, the small house with its low porch, the springhouse to the right, and grinned. He dismounted and walked over to the horse outside in the corral, a tall coppery chestnut mare whose coat glinted in the autumn light. She nickered softly at him and loped over to submit to some petting. Admiringly he said, "Damn, Chris, this is the life."

It is now, Chris thought with such a surge of feeling that his throat ached, it is now.

He let Vin alone to roam around the property as he took care of each of his horses. Vin moved his tack to the saddle shed. "Takin' her inside?" Vin asked as he smoothed his hand over the mare's nose.

"Barn sour," Chris explained. "How I got her at such a good price. But I'm working on her. Francisco don't like leaving her out here, but she's fine." They took their own horses inside the barn, fed and groomed them together.

By late in the afternoon they finished, and Chis brought Vin inside to look around the house. They threw his things down on the small settee, one of the many pieces of furniture left over from the previous owner. There was a bedroom off to the right, a small kitchen and table, and a large pantry behind the kitchen in which Chris had made a home for a huge copper washtub. Vin whistled. "All this just for you?"

"Somethin', ain't it? Man who sold it to me, his wife had died the year before and he just wanted quit of it. Gave it all to me at a pretty fair price, and the horses just came along after that."

Vin grinned at him. "Lemme guess. You helped him out of a bad situation."

Chris smiled ruefully. Vin was always right about him, knew him through and through. "Ah, he was more grateful than he needed to be."

They were both hungry and tired, and the early setting sun made it seem even farther along in the day than it was. "Should I cook us up something to eat?"

Vin nodded and took off his hat. Chris began to pull together ingredients for a stew.

"Feel like a wash? You been on the trail a long time." He pointed at the big copper tub.

"That'd be nice," Vin answered. He brought in some water as Chris lit the stove to heat it. He liked working next to Vin again, even on such a small task. When they'd finally heated enough water, he turned away so Vin would have privacy. But he kept letting his gaze travel that way, watching Vin as he leaned back in the steaming water, eyes closed, so appealing and so unaware.

Chris felt self-conscious and conspicuous, as if everything he did, Vin had already anticipated. But Vin had arrived at this truth far sooner than he had. All the places he had chosen to hide his feelings and affections, Vin had long ago discovered. Now Chris could see into those places -- could see love's small secrets as they revealed themselves slowly, like new spring leaves uncurling from a bud.

When Vin came back, the food was almost ready. Vin's hair was damp, his face flushed from the water's heat. A blue-hot desire to tangle his fingers in that hair momentarily overcame him.

He said to Vin over his shoulder, "If you go out to the springhouse, there'll be some nice cold beer. Just watch out for the critters."

Vin smiled happily and walked outside while Chris put some bowls on the table. It was the first time he'd had a meal with someone like this since Four Corners, the first time in years. He'd been alone so long now that he could scarcely remember his life had been any other way.

When Vin returned they ate, and he told Chris about his travels and all the places he'd been in the meantime. He'd kept deliberately moving, staying as far away as he could from anything like the life he'd had in Four Corners.

Chris wanted to know if there'd been anyone in all that time, but was afraid to ask. Once again, afraid, he realized. When it came to Vin, he was yellower than he'd ever thought possible. But as usual it was Vin who brought up the subject.

"So you been alone all this time, in such a fine place?"

Chris moved his bread through the bowl, dragging it around in the sop, before he finally looked up at Vin. "If I need to go sportin', I go to Taos or someplace else, but I keep to myself mostly."

"That ain't answering the question."

Chris shook his head. "No. Nobody."

Vin gazed at him a time, tapping his glass against the table absently. "Say the same for me."

Chris rose to clean up, and Vin walked outside and around the corner of the house to go relieve himself. After he'd finished washing up, Chris looked outside the window and saw Vin sitting on the porch.

He was wrapped in a couple of saddle blankets against the cold night air, his hat back on and pulled low on his head. Chris threw his coat on, grabbed another blanket and went out beside him.

"Mighty cold to be sitting outside."

"Yeah, but it's sure pretty with this full moon, that little rainbow thing around it."

They were quiet for a time until Chris said, "Think I could talk you into staying? The saloon could use someone to run the faro tables, maybe something else."

"Aw, you know me, not much for gambling. I don't mind a hand or two of poker now and then, but I was never as fond of it as Ezra."

"What if I deputized you? Be a lot like the way things were in Four Corners."

"Never fancied myself a real peace officer, though. Mostly I stuck around there because of you." He turned his pale face to Chris and smiled sadly, and Chris could feel an aching in his chest that he hadn't felt for years. "Then there's the whole thing with Tascosa -- don't think that this town would like having a man wanted for murder running things."

"That's a different state, and a world away. And I'm free to do as I please, no matter who I want to deputize."

Vin shook his head. "You don't need to put yourself in that spot, Chris."

"In case you haven't figured it out, I'm trying to find a reason for you to stay." He smiled at Vin. "Well, then, how 'bout this. You want to help me run this place? I could stand with making it a little bigger. You got a way with horses, and that way the time I spend being sheriff won't cut in as much to the horsing part. Francisco's a good kid, but he's just a kid, and I need real help."

Staring up at the moon, Vin thought for a while, then turned to Chris. "I'm dying, Chris. It's been getting worse little by little, and it took everything in me to ride here. I was praying to some god or t'other that I'd make it here before it snowed, at least so's I could see you one last time. You were the one friend I ever really had, and I didn't want to just waste away without saying good-bye."

"I know," Chris answered quietly "Don't take a real smart man to see what's wrong with you." He thought his heart would split in two talking about it like this. In all they'd been through before, he'd never thought such a thing could happen to Vin Tanner. "There's no telling how long you got, though. I've seen people when they get here get lots better; it ain't half so dusty and that cold mountain air's good for you. You could outlast it, you're strong. Lots of folks do."

"I like it up here," Vin said after a time. "Always loved these mountains, the people around here."

"That mean you'll stay?"

"I'd like to."

Chris stood and motioned Vin to come inside. "It's not good for you to be out here this long." Vin had coughed only a few times while they were out, but it scared Chris all the same.

Vin moved to the settee, and Chris sat on the arm and looked at him for a long while, the quiet fitting them like old clothes. Eventually he traced his fingertips over the perfect arch of Vin's eyebrows, ran them along his strong, square jaw, then buried his fingers in Vin's hair, curving his palm around the back of Vin's head. Vin's hand came up and settled on Chris's hip, and he let himself sink into an embrace. Chris rubbed his cheek against Vin's soft hair, taking in the scent of him, feeling his heart beat against him.

He kissed Vin softly, trying to pull back that feeling from across the wide chasm of time. Vin kissed him back, ardently, as if this had been his singular purpose all these lonesome years.

Chris rose and brought Vin to stand with him, Vin's back to the wall. Each kiss Vin returned with warmth and longing, but he made no moves on Chris himself. Even after Chris had unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it away, running his hands along Vin's smooth skin, Vin didn't reciprocate.

"My god, Vin. You're like a starving man. You known only wanting for so long, you don't even know you're starvin' to death."

Vin looked at him with that same tender gaze Chris remembered from so long ago, the one Vin seemed to spare only for him. No one else had been so tender to him except Sarah, and it moved him that Vin felt this way.

But something shifted in Vin and his face changed, and he reached a beckoning hand to Chris, who followed him to the bedroom with that big feather mattress. Fear ricocheted through Chris as he realized the full extent of what he was doing. But Vin's gentle smile calmed him, leading him forward like a lantern in the dark.

 

 

Later they lay together, Chris behind Vin, both on their sides. Chris's arm was curved over Vin's waist, his hand spread flat against Vin's stomach. Now he was content. All this time, in the years in between, he'd thought he was content, that this was the best life he could have after what he'd lost.

He'd lived his life in those years with the infinite patience of a stupid man, and it had been Vin instead who'd had the courage and smarts to turn around and put himself on the right trail.

The sound of Vin's breathing had quieted, but Chris stayed for a while, listening to him, feeling the coolness of his skin underneath his hand. By and by he got up, pulled the blankets over Vin, and put on his socks and trousers. He threw a blanket over his shoulders and stepped outside into the misty night, his breath hanging in the air.

When they had first met each other, it had been as dry and hot as hell must be. Now they were together again in a different land, in a different time. He looked out at the peaks and hills of the mountains barely visible in the darkness, and then inside the window to where Vin lay, bathed in the cabin's light. It was coming on snow, and he could feel it in the air all around him. But inside his heart, it was as warm as the wind across that Arizona desert.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote at the beginning is from Paul Brady's song "Nobody Knows."


End file.
